


wring magic from the ordinary

by Nottodaylogic (MandaloreArtist)



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: (meaning one sentence), (purposeful and not), Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Demiboy Patton, Dragons, Fire, Gen, Genderfluid Roman, M/M, Minor Injuries, Misgendering, Nonbinary Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Other, Regretfully, Trans Logic | Logan Sanders, Transphobia, although newt scamander is mentioned??, and now the Fun Things!!, but we don’t have any of them characters here, eh, jk can Yeet Away, might turn sympathetic, mild mild gore, minor angst and anxiety but it needs it for Plot, minor neutral deceit, my sandbox now, ok regretfully there Are warnings, why? because i really wanted to.
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-07-19 10:17:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19972426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MandaloreArtist/pseuds/Nottodaylogic
Summary: Logan Lizabet is the greatest Magizoologist since Newt Scamander, and he worked hard to get there. When he and his cousin (and sometimes, reluctant assistant) Virgil Cole found out about a rogue Opaleye dragon in Albany, New York, they thought it would be a simple task.It was not a simple task.Soon, Logan, Virgil, and their friends from New York, Patton and Roman Vivus, are on a greater adventure—with a hint of mystery—than they’d ever thought possible.Can they find out just who’s setting these events in motion?And what is the secret Logan’s hiding?





	wring magic from the ordinary

**Author's Note:**

> title from my absolute favorite book series in all the world, six of crows!!! 
> 
> merlin’s bald spot ive worked on this for so long
> 
> so many harry potter wiki pages 
> 
> so many days carrying around my brother’s copy of fantastic beasts
> 
> ANYWAYS the lovely fantastic scarletsartblog on tumblr was my artist!!! her beautiful art is right here: https://scarletsartblog.tumblr.com/post/187097701979/finished-my-artwork-for-ts-storytime-i-got
> 
> inspired by blinksinbewilderment on tumblr’s fantastic beasts au—specifically, the art from the character design of Logan as Newt Scamander. i saw that with no context and started writing a short ficlet, and look at it now. it has a plot. im so proud. 
> 
> enjoy!!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Swedish Short-Snout is a gorgeous silvery-blue dragon with a firebreath so hot it’s a blue color. It rarely comes into contact with humans, instead preferring to live in wild, mostly uninhabited areas. Compared to most other dragons, the Short-Snout has many fewer human killings to its name—although whether that’s due to its nature or where it lives is not known at this time. Despite this, it’s still a very dangerous species, because of its hot fire and agility and speed while flying. Its skin is sought after for gloves and shields. 
> 
> Cedric Diggory, Hufflepuff Hogwarts Champion of 1994, fought a Short-Snout during the First Task of the Triwizard Tournament. He got past it by Transfiguring a rock into a dog, which distracted it long enough for Cedric to retrieve the Golden Egg.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited 2/5/2020 for formatting

“Here you go,” Logan said softly, extending his hand. The young demiguise slowly turned visible, taking the bright red apple from him slowly with one hand. His large eyes blinked calmly, and Logan mimicked it. He scooped up Ghosty (Logan didn’t name him, that was all Virgil) into his arms like a child, cradling him softly, cooing. 

He carefully extracted one hand from beneath the creature. Extracting a bottle of Essence of Dittany, Logan carefully dripped three drops on the large wound on the Demiguises’ shoulder. It closed up, fresh skin growing over it. This last wound had taken the longest to cleanse, being much deeper than the other few, which were easily patched.

“There, there, Ghosty, it’s all right. It’s all right,” he said soothingly. Logan ran his hands through the thick fur, feeling the demiguise curl into his touch. He set him down gently in his habitat, carefully marking his wrist with a ring of nontoxic magical paint. 

“Why would you wander into the hippogriffs’ pen anyways?” Logan wondered aloud. “You know how they like their space. It took me ten minutes and fifteen seconds to patch you up.” 

As far as creatures go, especially demiguises, Ghosty was certainly a bold one. This was not the first time Logan had had to heal him after wandering into another realm in the suitcase, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last, if the past was an accurate predictor of the future. 

With this specific creature, it certainly seemed that way.

Logan closed the gate behind him, Ghosty sleeping on soft blankets behind him. He saw a purple-haired head walk towards him, and Logan smiled softly at his cousin.

“Good afternoon, Virgil.” He flicked a finger at their violently violet coif playfully. “I see you’ve changed the pigment of your hair.”

Virgil scowled, the ends of their hair turning slightly pink from annoyance and embarrassment. “It matches my aesthetic.” 

“I see.” Logan checked his watch. “Did you feed the Red Caps?”

“Regretfully.”

“Satisfactory. And the unicorns?”

“Still like me more than you,” Virgil said with a smirk. Logan rolled his eyes at them; this was hardly the first time they’d had this conversation. 

“It’s the Metamorphmagus in you, V.”

“Or the fact they seem to keep trying to fill the void of angst and anxiety within the place my soul would be with their cuteness or whatever.”

“I do not believe that would help, but as the Muggles say, ‘go off I guess’.” 

Virgil snorted. “You’re using it wrong, but go off I guess.”

“How are you so versed in Muggle slang again?” Logan wondered for the fiftieth time.

“You’re the so-called ‘magizoologist’ here, I’m the Muggle Studies guy. And Ancient Runes, but whatever. Not like it’s practically useful for anything but my job anyways.” Virgil ran a hand on top of the smooth metal table, which Logan knew the texture of which helped soothe their sensory issues. “Also, I’m the one who actually  _ stays in touch _ with, like, the internet. You know, MySpace, Tumblr, all that jazz. Despite you being, well—”

“Yes, yes.” He rolled his eyes. “Anyways, that will be enough about  _ that _ .”

“ _ Sure _ it will.”

“Well. If you’re done being a petty contrarian,  _ I _ have more  _ important _ things to do than entertain Muggles, such as telling  _ your  _ boyfriend that I will be coming to America, and because of that,  _ you  _ will  _ also  _ be coming to America, as you are both my assistant and his datemate, and couldn’t resist if you wished to, which you do not, see second point for proof.” Logan adjusted his glasses. 

Virgil blushed slightly at the mention of Roman, scowl deepening impossibly. “Wait, what? Since when? And why are we headed to America?”

Logan waved one hand in the air, elbow still positioned on his other hand from the glasses adjustment. “I only just told you, so since now.”

“Oh my  _ gosh— _ “

“It’s only a simple errand. Runaway dragon, Muggles in distress, MACUSA wants to kill her but she’s harmless, really. No such thing as naturally dangerous creatures, only fools who anger them. Nothing new.”

Virgil nodded. “And I suppose you want Roman to keep our adventures quiet and our trails clear around MACUSA?”

“Exactly.” 

“Alright,” a sighing Virgil replied. “I’ll send him an email. Living in a low-magic town has its benefits. Especially the technology and  _ much  _ less people involving us in the latest Dark wizard taking over.” They walked away, undoubtedly to their office, which could be more accurately described as “a place where Virgil would waste time on websites Logan didn’t understand”. 

Logan went back to aiding his creatures. They needed him, after all, and he needed them. 

* * *

Patton twirled around the apartment, waving his wand around and humming a tune. The dishes put themselves away, the scraps on the table went into the trash, and the shades came back a bit to let in some sunlight. His short, light blue skirt flowed around him in the summer heat as he spun.

His brother, Roman, raised an eyebrow at him from where he was scrolling on his phone. Because of the higher-than-normal temperatures, as well as not having left the apartment the entire day, he was only  _ sporting _ a t-shirt from some old theatre show ( _ Newsies _ , it read—Roman had quite enjoyed his role as one of the named background Newsies, despite wanting to play Jack Kelly, of course (“we’re both bi and dramatic, Pat! It’s perfect!”)), partially dyed more-strawberry-than-blonde hair a bit messed up from running his hands through it a few too many times. “Why so excited?”

“Virgil’s coming!” Patton squealed, spinning excitedly. “I can’t wait!”

“You met them less than a year ago,” an amused Roman said.

“Yeah, so? What does that have to do with anything? They’re still my kiddo now!” Patton pointed at the picture of the three of them on the wall. “Have been since you introduced us, always will be.”

Roman snorted and returned to his phone. “Their cousin’s coming too,” he said casually. 

A pillow fell to the floor as Patton was  _ floor _ ed as well. “What?”

“Yeah, Logan. Apparently there’s a runaway dragon or whatever?” Roman shrugged, switching to the messages app and magicking the phone over to Patton. He skimmed his eyes over the text, grinning at his friend’s ‘ _ say hi to Patton for me _ ’, tilting his head at the description of Virgil’s cousin. “I was wondering if you’d want to meet him? I haven’t yet, but who knows?” 

“Of course!” Patton lowered the letter, grinning. “I can’t wait!”

“You said that already,” Roman teased. “His name’s Logan Lizabet, by the way.”

_ That’s a nice name!  _ “What else do you know ‘bout him?”

“According to Virgil, he’s a  _ huge _ nerd.” 

“Roman…”

“Their words, not mine!” Roman put his hands up defensively. “Logan’s a magizoologist. He works with magical creatures, you’ll probably like him. Or at least, his suitcase full of Nifflers.”

Patton gasped. “A full  _ suitcase  _ of Nifflers?!”

Roman looked amused. “Yep.”

“I  _ need  _ to meet him!” Two pans began banging together rather wildly behind Patton—because he’s  _ pan, ha! _ —as his excitement rose. He realized this, and lowered them back onto the counter with his wand. With one last wave, the curtains pulled themselves back together before opening fully and a broom started sweeping with renewed vigor.

Roman snorted at his brother’s excitement. He summoned a paper and quill from the other room, writing a response as Patton peered over his shoulder excitedly. 

* * *

Wizards had no “good” way to travel.

Apparition wouldn’t work to another continent (the percentage of people who tried and got Splinched was 95%, with the last 5% having died or ended up in the middle of the ocean), neither would Floo Powder (different Ministries had different Floo Networks), and brooms? Outlawed, and also nope. 

The majority of the magical forms of transportation also gave Logan motion sickness.

The Portkey they used, an old hat, didn’t fail to make him feel queasy. The warmth that surrounded him didn’t help matters at all, almost worsening his nausea if anything. Nevertheless, he didn’t show his symptoms, simply adjusted his bow tie—yes, he was wearing a cool, despite actually being rather warm, trench coat that made him feel like Sherlock and a bow tie in the heat, so?—and secured his suitcase. The latch had popped open again of its own will. It always did that.

“Ready?” Virgil asked. They may have been the only soul alive who knew about Logan’s motion sickness. 

Logan may or may not have vomited on one of their favorite hoodies once on a visit to Diagon Alley.

“Affirmative.” Logan looked his cousin up and down. “You’ve altered your appearance,” he noted. It was true; Virgil’s hair was a pinkish tint that didn’t fall into their eyes  _ quite  _ as much as it ordinarily did—eyes that were a walnut color only slightly lighter than their skin—and they were shorter than they normally liked (possibly because normally they were a  _ freaking giant _ except for their habit of slouching). They also were wearing their favorite hoodie, despite the temperature, which was well above comfort levels. “For Roman, I assume?”

Virgil chose that moment to grab Logan’s arm and Apparate away, hiding any signs of embarrassment, which did not seem like a coincidence. He didn’t have time to reflect on this fact, through, because immediately after the uncomfortable sensation of being squeezed through a rubber tube came a bout of intense nausea. 

They arrived behind Roman’s apartment building, and Logan looked around for the secret entrance (after taking a moment to reorient himself). It was a large brick building, built more for practicality than comfort or style. The Muggles entered through the Muggle door, but on the opposite side, behind a dumpster, there was a separate entrance for the wizards who lived there. 

Virgil pushed it aside with a quick, practiced  _ Wingardium Leviosa  _ and knocked on the wall section, disguised as an electronic panel cover, where the dumpster had been. 

The metal door swung outwards, but the person who answered was not Roman. Instead, a young man with owlish eyes behind large, round glasses answered. His hair was curly and light brown and went every which way, as though something had nested in it, perhaps several bowtruckles. He sported a large, excited grin that lit up his face, which was circular in shape and heavily freckled. 

He was… cute. 

The man squealed,  _ squealed,  _ and tackled Logan’s cousin, having to launch himself out of the door in the process, which expanded to allow him access so he didn’t bash his head on the doorframe and die. “VIRGIL!” 

Virgil stumbled back upon the attack, like they were being grabbed by a Venomous Tentacula instead of an overly enthusiastic wizard, but they were laughing, which was an odd response. “Hey, Pat.” 

“How have you been?! I missed you so muuuchhhh!!!”

Logan cleared his throat. “I hate to interrupt, but who might you happen to be?”

The man, apparently named Pat, stepped back, still utterly _ beaming _ . “Sorry, you must be Logan! Pronouns?”

“He and him.”

“Sounds good! I’m Patton, Roman’s brother! ‘They’ and ‘he’ pronouns, but ‘he’ is good for now. Oh, it’s so lovely to finally meet you! I’ve been so excited!”

“It is… good, I suppose, to meet you as well.” Logan paged through appropriate greeting gestures for humans. Before he could pick one to suit the situation, he was being squeezed like the prey of a serpent, or perhaps an Occamy (although  _ prey  _ was hardly the correct word for the latter) in the arms of Patton. 

Virgil cleared their throat. “You’re squishing him, Pat. And I prefer my cousins alive, if you don’t mind?”

Logan gawked, only intelligently. “You have  _ more?” _

“Oh!” Patton let go, just as quick as when he’d latched on. “I’m sorry, it’s all just so exciting, isn’t it? Oh, Roman will be  _ thrilled  _ to see you here! Follow me!”

He bounded off without another word.

Logan raised a single eyebrow at Virgil, beginning to walk after the cheerful lad. “ _ This  _ is your best friend?”

“Yeah, he grows on you. Like, I dunno, magic fungus or whatever?” Virgil made a noise that was the auditory synonym of a shrug. “Is there one of those creatures that like, literally grows on you?” 

“Not that I can recall in this moment. However, Bundimuns look exactly like a patch of fungus that feeds on dirt, Chizpurfles are small parasites that are commonly found in Aubrey and Crup fur, and Kelpies do have seaweed for hair, do those count?”

Virgil only stared at him. “...Merlin’s right eyeball, why are you such a nerd?”

Logan almost took offense to that. “It is not my fault magical creatures are so fascinating.”

“Sure, whatever, nerd.”

“That supposed ‘insult’ is not insulting in the slightest.”

“Still. Nerd.”

Logan rolled his eyes once more. 

“Here we are!” Patton clapped his hands. 

As if on cue, the door swung open. 

The wizard who was in the doorway of the apartment could not have been anyone  _ but  _ Roman. The eyeliner was too perfect for doubt, the lips a brilliant shade of gold, the slightly curly hair impeccably styled and dyed a shade of fading red (the dye job had failed; he remembered hearing about it from an exasperated Virgil), the eyes the exact emerald and oak shades Virgil had described so poetically so many times. 

Above all, though, they carried themself  _ way too dramatically.  _

_ This is Roman all right.  _

(Although, he  _ had _ seen the wizard before, as Virgil and Roman constantly used video chat services to communicate, and Logan had been introduced to them before.)

“Greetings, my darling Virgil! Oh, how I missed you!” Roman swept over to kiss Virgil’s rapidly reddening cheeks (and possibly lips, but he didn’t see) before turning to Logan. “And you are my love’s nerd cousin, Logan, if I remember correctly?”

He nodded. “The term ‘nerd’ does seem to be commonly used to describe me, as it seems.” 

Roman looked at him sideways. “Dang, Virge never mentioned you’re their a  _ hot  _ nerd cousin!” He bowed to Logan. Patton stifled a laugh in the background as Logan wondered what was going on. “Your beauty cannot be measured through any computer screen, Sir Bookworm.”

“ _ Roman!”  _ Virgil punched Roman’s arm. The flirtatious one overreacted immensely, gasping and placing a hand on his chest. 

“Hey, I’m ace, and we both know I’m joking, right?” They pouted. “You didn’t have to  _ hit  _ me!”

Virgil lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “Yeah, but I  _ wanted  _ to.”

Before Roman could say something else along the lines of ‘how dare you’, Logan interjected both verbally and physically with an outstretched hand. “You would be Roman, I assume?”

“But of course! He and him pronouns for now, but ‘they’ is always fine if you’re unsure. A pleasure.” Roman bowed majestically, ignoring the offer of a handshake. Logan let his hand fall to his side. Virgil sighed and Patton giggled in the background as if this were a normal occurrence. According to Virgil’s tales of the man, this seemed a likely possibility.

“The pleasure is mine. It is, indeed, quite nice to at last meet the man my emo, antisocial, introverted cousin was so passionate about, along with you, Roman.”

Patton beamed and made  _ aww!  _ noises. Roman scoffed. “Wow, rude.”

“Virgil is not the only antisocial, introverted, annoyed-by-unnecessary-dramatics one in the family. They’re simply the only emo one.”

Virgil made finger guns in the background. “It’s true.”

“That is why I said it.” That seemed obvious enough to him. Wasn’t it obvious to everyone else?

Logan then realized Patton had been vibrating in the background for an indeterminate amount of time. This seemed exceedingly strange. 

“Are you alright, Patton? You seem…” 

He didn’t know how to complete that sentence.

Patton grinned at him. “Just super happy to be here!”

“If you insist.” It seemed rather odd, for apparent happiness over  _ humans, _ of all things, to cause such surges of energy. 

However, this was a new human, so perhaps it was all  _ lit. _

_... _ or was it  _ Gucci? _

No, perhaps he had been right on his first attempt. 

Logan usually was. 

“Shall we sit down?” Roman made a rather grand gesture towards the inside of the apartment. They all agreed that they should, indeed, sit down, and migrated to the table, as do roving spirits or dragons in search of new, satisfactory territory. 

“So,” Logan began, “I assume you all are aware of the nature of this visit.”

“My darling datemate sent me a letter.” Roman snapped his fingers, causing several plates to drift over to their table. Logan, who had not known that Roman could do wandless magic (or that they were going to be eating in the first place, although food was not present on the plates), resolved to ask him on the topic later. “Dragons, right?”

“Dragons indeed,” drawled Virgil. “Logan couldn’t stay away from magical creatures if he tried. This one's not supposed to be  _ too  _ dangerous, but you can’t trust him. He said that once about an encounter with a Swooping Evil, and look what happened.”

“There were no casualties, Virgil.”

“That’s what  _ you  _ say.”

“Is there evidence to the contrary?”

“Yeah, the guy who you had to use the very venom of  _ another _ Swooping Evil to remove the memory of  _ his brains almost being eaten—” _

Logan adjusted his glasses. “Did he die?”

Patton interrupted them then, saying, “Where’s the dragon going to be?”

“Somewhere in Albany. According to reports, she’s a Antipodean Opaleye, very noticeable among wizards and Muggles alike. The shimmering scales and colorful eyes, with no pupil, set it apart from other dragon types.” 

Roman batted his eyelashes at Virgil. “Sounds like my kind of dragon.” 

Virgil shoved Roman off his chair.

“ _ Hey!” _

Logan cleared his throat. “Several Muggles have been taken to its cave, which, along with its appearance in the first place, is quite odd, as not only is the Opaleye a less violent species of dragon, it is also native to New Zealand, of all places.”

“That’s pretty far from Albuquerque,” Patton commented, eyes wide.

“Albany, and yes, it is.” 

Roman had climbed back onto his chair by now, and was glaring at his datemate as he spoke. “Do you think she could have flown there?”

“No, that is highly improbable, as the flight would be 8,994 miles, the majority over water. Without any sustenance, especially as the Opaleye has a diet preference of sheep and larger prey. Fish would be unfamiliar and difficult to find without prior experience fishing.”

“So,” Virgil said sarcastically, “what you’re saying, in nerd language, is nope.”

“That is correct.”

“Why can’t you just say ‘yes’ like a normal human?”

Patton waved his hand to attract attention. It was very effective. “I’m going to prepare some food, anyone have preferences?”

“I am a vegetarian,” Logan notified Patton. “I find it impossible to be in the creature field of study and still consume flesh.”

There was a three second silence.

“Well,” Roman said, “That’s one way to phrase that. Do we have any garlic bread left? You could make spaghetti with that good marinara sauce, and I believe that Virgil enjoys Italian? Do not hesitate to halt me if I misspeak. It would be a grievous error.”

Virgil nodded. “I love me some pasta.”

“Logan?”

“I have no objections.”

“Very well then!” 

Patton clapped his hands. “Alrightie! Spaghetti marinara, coming right up!”

After he left the room, Roman asked, “So what’s the danger here?”

Logan tilted his head. “There is none. Everyone here is all but overqualified to deal with a little fire.”

“ _ FIRE?!” _

Ignoring the startled outbursts of both his companions, Logan excused himself to aid Patton in the kitchen. He had heard faint a cry from inside, at the same time as their overreactions.

It seemed worth investigating.

* * *

“ _ Agh!”  _ Patton stuck his bleeding finger in his mouth, silently cursing wildly.

_ Darn it! Oh, fiddlesticks! Cracked crusted candy on a stick! _

It was filthy, he knew, but it stung really bad!  _ Why did I have to be chopping  _ onions? The juice only made it hurt more!

And he’d already started too many self-sustained spells to heal himself until they were done…  _ ugh! _

Patton ran to the sink and turned on the cold water, running his finger underneath as he held his wand between his teeth precariously.  _ Don’t drop it don’t drop it don’t drop it…  _

The door opened, and Patton dropped his wand in surprise. 

_ Dangnabbit! _

He turned around to see Logan, standing there, obviously analyzing the situation. Patton couldn’t think of what he saw: half-chopped onions, the sink still running, an open mouthed him with a bleeding finger. Patton quickly picked up his wand with his good hand.

The first words out of his savior’s mouth were, “Shall I retrieve my first-aid kit?”

Patton nodded, feeling tears on the edge of his eyelids.

Logan ran out, returning moments later with exactly what he promised. The insides were mostly things not meant for humans, but still useful. 

“Oh, thank heavens, thank you!” Patton gushed as Logan cleaned and covered the wound with an impossibly small bandage, maybe meant for something less human than him.

“It was no trouble, Patton. The wound wasn’t too deep, or even remotely a concern. Attempt to be more careful next time?”

“Yeah, sorry ‘bout that.” He laughed sheepishly. “Guess I spread myself a bit too thin with my magic there, haha!”  _ Oh goodness gracious, I can’t believe you made him come in and  _ help  _ you, why couldn’t you have just been more  _ careful?

“As I said, it was no trouble at all. Would you require some assistance?”

_ Oh, gosh, no, I wouldn’t want to bother you!  _ “Yes, that would be really quite helpful, thank you!”  _ Why.  _

“Excellent. I will wash my hands, if you could wash the tomatoes for chopping? I can handle the rest of the onions when I return.” Logan nodded to himself, leaving the room, likely for the bathroom sink. 

Patton did as requested, rinsing each tomato carefully. When the other man returned, they resumed cooking in near-silence: almost Patton’s least favorite environment. Sadly, the background noise of Roman and Virgil conversing (or making out, Patton wasn’t sure and didn’t want to know) wasn’t quite enough to stop him from dwelling on every mistake he’d ever made. 

Still, he found that it was much better, existing in comfortable, shared silence, than being on his own. 

And it wasn’t at all uncomfortable, being with Logan. It was… nice, being with the quiet, yet very _not_ quiet presence. 

When the pasta was ready and the sauce done, Logan cut the garlic bread and Patton Levitated the food to the other room. 

Roman, being Roman, flopped dramatically on the table upon seeing the spaghetti, acting like he hadn’t just been kissed the living daylights out of by Virgil. “At last! I have died a thousand deaths waiting for you, my one and only love, pasta!”

Virgil arched an eyebrow. “What am I, oatmeal raisin cookies?”

Roman looked sideways at his datemate. “At this precise moment, my dear, I’m so hungry I’d eat  _ oatmeal raisin cookies _ . So, no. Though I love you, my darling Virgil, I wouldn’t compare you to food at this exact moment.” He winked. “It’s for the best _. _ ”

“Wow.”

Patton laughed loudly. “Here’s the cheese, Ro!” He handed said dairy product over. Roman proceeded to pour ten spoonfuls of parmesan over his pasta.

“That’s kind of a lot,” Virgil said.

Logan simply shrugged as he sat down. “I can retrieve more, if necessary.” 

“It’s alright. Princey always does this.”

“Lactose intolerance can kiss my uncaring, cheese-loving butt.”

Virgil snorted. “That’s my new favorite Roman quote, by the way.”

“Okay, how about we  _ stop _ slandering my good name and instead slander  _ Logan’s?” _

“Sounds like a plan, Stan.”

“...I’m Roman?”

“Not anymore you’re not.”

The conversation continued light-heartedly for the rest of the evening, and Patton joined in eagerly. It helped to keep his mind off other things. 

* * *

To say Logan was up bright and early would be a blatant lie, fabricated by Virgil’s complete and utter lack of a circadian rhythm. 

Instead, he awoke at precisely 7:30 am (exactly 9 hours after he went to bed, thank you very much), dressed, and walked to the kitchen, expecting (perfectly reasonably, mind you) for everyone to be down there, prepared, with breakfast, and ready to start the full day ahead. 

That did not happen. 

Instead, he was met with complete silence. 

Not a single soul was in the kitchen that morning. 

Exasperated with the universe, Logan returned to the room he was inhabiting. Virgil and Roman were sharing quarters (the former was demi, the latter ace, so likely what had transpired was, at most, an intense pillow fight), so he had the guest room to himself. 

He opened his suitcase and crawled inside. 

There, he could just  _ be.  _ There were tasks to be done, responsibilities, things to make him feel  _ useful.  _

His first stop was to check up on the Hinkypunks. They’d seemed very riled-up yesterday, and it seemed best to see them as soon as possible, as a released one would cause quite a bit of chaos, which Logan didn’t want in the one place he could count on to be  _ free  _ of chaos.

When he entered the Spirits section, which was clouded with mist and fog and trees that seemed to be mere skeletons of their former selves, Logan was assaulted with a large fireball. He narrowly dodged it, but his hair had been slightly singed. The brown locks had likely charred, and they smelled slightly of burn. 

Huh. 

He’d have to take care of that later.

Ignoring the burnt hair, Logan adjusted his coat and donned a fireproofing-charm-embedded bracelet Virgil had gotten him. It was more convenient and reliable than the actual charm, as well as having other magical benefits. 

As he dealt with the Hinkypunks (they were simply restless, which was really nothing new), Logan’s mind was elsewhere. The plight of the dragon concerned him greatly. Something didn’t add up with the logic, but he couldn’t figure out what.

Even when he left the Spirits for the Desert, which had a much better visuals despite being hot as  _ heck _ , his thoughts still plagued him, distracting him as he fed the Thunderbird. His arm was almost snapped up by a young Acromantula with a broken leg, Rubra the Bowtruckle climbed into his hair and didn’t leave for seven minutes and fifty four seconds, and a Fwooper stole the glasses right off his face.

“Oh for goodness  _ sakes,”  _ Logan muttered to himself after that last incident. He glared at the offending birdlike creature, who only blinked back. She would have screeched, if not for the Silencing Charm enforced upon her by the band on her ankle. Logan had found that it was much easier to simply attach one of those than to constantly replenish the spells on the creature itself.

Despite the inconveniences sometimes, Logan had discovered that he could find solace in his sanctuary, among the chitters and screeches of the magical creatures. Unlike human speech, which left no room for listening, he could just  _ talk  _ to the animals.

And best of all?

His creatures  _ listened _ . They didn’t judge him or reject him or force him to be anything but Logan. 

And in return, he listened to them. 

At least one hour of each and every possible day was dedicated to giving each and every beast his undivided attention and devotion. Whatever they required, he would do. Not just anyone was allowed into his sanctuary (despite the animals, it wasn’t a  _ zoo) _ . So far, Virgil had been the only other human to set foot inside, to Logan’s knowledge and preference. 

His thoughts wandered to Patton when he was checking up on the baby Occamies.  _ Would he be helpful to have around? _ The man was a Healer, apparently, which was nice. And wizards with Healing focuses were usually very soothing to have around magical creatures, who could sense that sort of thing.  _ But would it be possible? Or realistic?  _ Logan usually preferred to work alone, but somehow the thought of including one more person didn’t quite bother him as much as it usually would… 

Or maybe it was just the calm state being around his creatures gave him talking.

The heavens opened up, which was really just someone cracking open the suitcase. Logan sighed and slid the baby Occamy back into its shell. It chirped softly.

He saw Roman poke a head down inside as the magical ladder was lowered.

“Yo, nerd, what’re you doing up?”

Logan rolled his eyes. “There is a  _ reason _ I woke up this early, Roman.”

“ _ Sure.” _

“Well, I had to take care of the creatures  _ sometime.”  _ Logan brushed off his hands and climbed up the ladder. Roman stepped aside to let him exit his sanctuary. “And you, Mister Vivus?”

“That’s  _ Madame  _ Vivus to you. She and her pronouns today.” Roman flipped her hair. It wasn’t  _ quite _ long enough to  _ really  _ flip, but she made it work somehow. Her red dress, split at the leg to show black leggings, was deemed by Logan to be more formal than functional. He’d have to ask her to change, regrettably, as this was definitely  _ not  _ what she slept in, and she’d surely raise a fuss over having to put on something more practical.

“My apologies. What were  _ you _ doing up?”

“This makeup doesn’t apply itself!” Upon Logan’s raised eyebrow, Roman continued, “an Auror’s job is never done, is it?”

“No, I don’t suppose so.” 

With the timing of someone who has never seen a clock in their a life, a pathetic attempt of a tidal wave of Golden Snidgets made a bid for freedom. Roman jumped back with a cry, but Logan simply ran and shut the door. 

“There isn’t a hidden window, is there?” At Roman shaking her head, Logan continued, “Good. Would you cast a quick Levitation charm to put the Snidgets back? They happen to be extremely endangered, so the sooner they’re back in the suitcase, the better.”

With an odd look at him, Roman waved her hand. 

The Snidgets returned to the suitcase with little noises.

Logan quickly shut the suitcase with a  _ click!  _ “Thank you.”

Roman looked at him oddly. “Why didn’t  _ you _ just spell them back? Isn’t it less trouble than if I have to do it? I didn’t even have my wand.”

“I left my wand in the suitcase,” Logan said, which was true. 

“But why—”

“I saw you do wandless magic last night. It only took deduction, not too difficult for someone with half a brain.”

“It’s not that easy to just—”

“Would you like to know how I received this suitcase?”

“Appreciate my talents!”

“I have just made plans to  _ not  _ do that.”

Roman glared at him. “I did  _ not _ train for  _ years  _ to muster the discipline and control necessary to do wandless magic for you to  _ brush it aside  _ for a measly  _ suitcase.” _

Logan stared. “There seems to be quite a bit to dissect in that statement, which is why I have made the executive decision to simply dispose of it all instead.”

“There’s a much easier way to say that, but whatever.” Roman shrugged. “Why were you insisting on telling me about the dumb suitcase?”

Logan looked Roman in her green and brown eyes. “I was going to tell you it didn’t matter. Just like your opinion.”

“Okay,  _ wow.  _ That was  _ cold,  _ Lemony Snidget.”

Logan simply stared at Roman. “Excuse me?”

Roman waved her hands in the air. “You know, like Lemony Snicket? That deadpan narrator guy from the books I read a few years ago? But Snidget, because of the—nevermind, my amazing nicknames are too intricate to be understood.”

“More obscure than anything, really.” 

“ _ Rude.” _

“Factual.”

“Too early.”

The last sentence was spoken by Virgil, who was wearing pajamas that looked immensely like their everyday clothes, including the hoodie. They were rubbing their eyes and seemed to be regretting ever waking up. This was anything  _ but _ unusual.

“Greetings, Virgil. How are you this morning?”

Virgil groaned the groan of one who was tired on many, many more levels than simply physical and who had all but gotten used to it, but that didn’t mean they were happy about it in the slightest.

Roman quirked an eyebrow. “That good, huh?” 

“Hnng.”

Logan was not one for physical affection, but he stepped forward and allowed Virgil to rest their head on his shoulder, which they did as eagerly as they could. They didn’t have the energy to be  _ eager _ , exactly, but they didn’t seem to detest the gesture. He turned back to Roman. “Does this mean that Patton is awake?”

Roman lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. “Dunno. He’s usually up the earliest, but there are days he’ll need to sleep longer.” She didn’t explain why. 

“I’ll go get him. Logan, will you take my dearest to the couch and fix up some food for them? There’s probably some instant oatmeal or toast or something if you can’t make coffee.”

Logan muttered about how he could  _ absolutely  _ make coffee, but complied anyways.

Five minutes and twenty seven seconds later, Virgil was huddled on the couch, a vibrantly colored blanket around their shoulders. They were visibly mourning their lost sleep as they sipped their coffee (an  _ absurd _ amount of sugar, but no cream because “I have to keep up my  _ aesthetic _ !”). Roman had pulled Patton into the kitchen, who seemed to be slightly loopy from just waking up, and taken down a tin of muffins that the latter had made a few days ago. 

They were banana chocolate chip and the most delicious muffins he’d ever tasted.

Patton blushed vibrantly and accidentally spilled orange juice all over himself (and the couch) when Logan told him that. 

“Aww,” he said sadly. 

Roman pointed at his shirt and it dried instantly. 

“There! Problem solved!”

“Speaking of shirts,” Logan said, “you should change, Roman.”

She gawked at him. “But this is-” 

Logan took another bite of his muffin. “What would the nearest Wizarding market be?”

Patton tilted his head. “I think  _ l’Equinoxe _ , why?”

“Virgil and I will need to pay it a visit before we track down our Opaleye.”

Patton frowned. “Why’s that?” 

Roman’s phone buzzed. She excused herself to answer it, dropping a single quick kiss on Virgil’s head as she did. They didn’t react, just making some grumbled still-tired-but-at-least-slightly-less-annoyed noises from their lump on the couch before lazily pouring copious amounts of coffee and sugar into their mug; Roman had summoned them a new pot before leaving.

“Because,” replied Logan, “you cannot just run after a dragon impulsively, not without the proper equipment and so on to contain her.”

“That makes sense!” Patton snapped his fingers, or tried to. It didn’t seem he knew exactly how to. “Oh, that reminds me! Do you know what’s going to happen to the Opaleye when we catch her?”

Logan brushed a few stray strands of dark brown hair out of his face. “Not to worry, Patton. We have a team of dragon keepers lined up, headed by Dee Xavier. Zey’re the best of the best, at least when it comes to dragons.”

“Can confirm,” mumbled Virgil as loudly as they could while still doing what could be called ‘ _ mumbling _ ’ _.  _ “I’ve met zem. Dee’s a sarcastic little—”

“Language.”

“—but zey get along so well with the dragons they could be one zemselves.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“Cool!” Patton grinned at Logan with his entire face, eyes scrunched up behind his round glasses, and something in his heart skipped a beat. 

Odd.

Now bouncing up and down, Patton continued, “Can I meet zem?”

“Maybe,” Logan considered. “You could possibly—no promises—come with, if you wish.”

“Yay!” Patton gasped before leaning over and hugging him tightly. It was a… bizarre experience that he had not anticipated. 

Virgil raised their hand, barely paying attention. They were refilling their mug yet again, it seemed with more sugar than actual coffee. “Pat. L doesn’t like hugs without being warned. Personal space.”

“Oh! Sorry ‘bout that!”

“It’s fine, Patton.” He hadn’t minded too much. Granted, it’s not that he  _ hadn’t  _ minded—even if it had been Virgil, which was extremely unlikely because of their I-don't-like-humans nature, there was the discomfort with physical contact—but it wasn’t too bad or overwhelming. 

It was. 

Alright. 

And then Roman walked back into the room. 

(Wearing a much more practical ensemble consisting of a gold-and-red tunic and a simple, scarlet skirt with leggings, Logan noted.)

She was putting the phone back in her pocket and visibly thinking hard. Her short blonde hair was messed up, likely due to running her hand through it, and she had been pacing for the better part of the last few minutes, adjusting her tunic, skirt swishing as she walked around. She was the picture of distress, which was not ideal. 

“Er, Logan?” Roman had an odd look on her face.  _ Possibly concern? _ “There’s a problem.”

He sighed. Beside him, Patton perked up, looking worried as well. Notably, Virgil did  _ not  _ perk up, despite the (now bordering on three) cups of coffee they’d consumed. “What is it?”

“You know how I work for MACUSA, right?” 

Logan scoffed. “How could I not? That is why I contacted you, after all.”

“Not because you missed me?” Roman winked at him, causing Logan to roll his eyes. Patton giggled and excused himself to clean up their breakfast dishes. 

“Generally you don’t happen to miss the thing you despise, or have never actually  _ met _ .” He ignored Roman’s noises of protest and offense (“Virgil introduced us over a video chat, how  _ dare  _ you say we haven’t met!”), instead continuing to question her. “What problem were you referring to, Roman? Is MACUSA acting on the dragon situation? I  _ knew  _ we shouldn’t have taken all that  _ time— _ ”

“No, no, nothing related to the Opaleye. Regrettably.” She sighed. “Alas, there’s  _ another  _ dangerous creature—”

“There are no dangerous creatures by themselves, only fools who anger them—”

“—fine,  _ not at all carnivorous  _ Quintaped running around rampant in Manhattan.”

Logan stared. “Excuse me?”

Virgil silently chugged the dregs of their coffee and filled another cup.

Roman rolled her eyes. “I  _ told  _ you it was dangerous. I have a friend, Elliott? They’re in the Body for Protection of Magical Species. Basically your British Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. They’re keeping me in touch with the news in their department where I can’t—because I’m an  _ auror _ , not  _ omniscient— _ and when they ended up assigned to take out a freaking  _ Quintaped… _ ”

“ _ Exactly _ what we need.” Logan took off his glasses and rubbed his temples. “I’m the best equipped to deal with a creature incident, but Virgil is the only other one who knows what to buy. Patton’s magic isn’t offensive enough to deal with a Quintaped, but neither is Virgil, and they  _ specifically  _ told me to  _ never  _ take you shopping.”

“ _ Really?” _

“Gave me an entire talk about it.”

Roman grumbled under her breath.

Virgil cleared their throat and spoke clearly for the first time that morning.  _ A true miracle.  _ “Alright. So we’ll split up.”

Logan tilted his head. “Explain?”

They drained their cup. “As anxious as it makes me, L, if we want to do all this, Roman has to go with you to deal with the Quint-whatever.”

“Quintaped.”

“Bless you.”

“It’s not a difficult word to say—”

“I’ll take Patton with me to grab whatever you need,” they continued, both wisely and foolishly ignoring Logan. “If you’re worried about me forgetting, I can write a list. It’s no big deal.”

Logan nodded. “Are you sure about this?”

“Well, you know how places with a lot of humans make me feel.” Virgil laughed sarcastically, pouring suspicious amounts of sugar into their mug.  _ They haven’t even finished their coffee? _ “I think I’ll be fine, though. I have my meds, and my sensory issues have been on the down-low so far today. It should be alright.”

“If you say so.”

“And I’ll help if Virge  _ does _ get overwhelmed!” Patton volunteered. Virgil lifted their hand for a high five, and Patton complied happily. Best friends. 

“Brilliant,” Roman declared. “So! We'll fight the Quintaped, right?”

“No.” Logan stood up and reached for his suitcase, brushing any last crumbs off his trench coat (“ _ Why _ are you wearing that?! It’s the freakin’ morning, L!”). “We are going to  _ save  _ him.”

* * *

If they were going to go save the Quintaped as well as the dragon—who really needed some kind of name, what with how much they mentioned her—they had to have some supplies, and Patton was perfectly happy to be the one to gather the various items. While packing up, he did a bit of cleaning.

So he packed a pack of snacks and stuff—better to be prepared!—and did some last tidying up, because goodness knows Roman wasn’t going to touch anything meant for cleaning anytime soon, not if she could help it. 

He had been tidying Logan’s room (“Whatever happened to the blankets? And the pillows? Er, why is there a yellow bird on the ceiling fan?!”) when he saw something under the bed.

_ Huh _ . 

Patton laid down on the ground, reaching all the way back. The object had rolled pretty far beneath the bed, and it took a few tries, but eventually he managed to grab it. He pulled it out—

And was promptly confuzzled at what he found.

It was a wand.

Old, long, and inflexible, worn down to the wooden bone, but a wand all the same.

_ What’s  _ this _ doing here? _

—

“I believe this is yours, Lo?”

Logan turned to chastise Patton before staring at the long object in his hand.

He stepped forward to grab the wand from the other man’s hand. “Where was it?” 

“Under your bed. Maybe it fell out of your pocket?” Patton suggested.

_ Unlikely. I don’t have pockets.  _ “Perhaps.” 

“Well, now you have it!” He made  _ ta-da  _ gestures. Logan was unimpressed.

“Sure.”

Patton sat down on the couch. After a moment of hesitation, Logan joined him. “Tell me about the Opaleye?”

“I have told you all the necessary details—”

“Not the  _ necessary  _ bits, silly!” He giggled and rested his head on Logan’s shoulder, causing him to freeze. “The fun facts!”

“Well,” Logan said, trying to figure out how to get Patton off him, “she’ll be beautiful, if that’s ‘fun’ for you.” At Patton’s intrigued look, he went on, “Opaleye get their names from their scales, which are shiny enough to resemble gems. Their eyes are opalescent, a word meaning really shiny, as well as slightly redundant.”

Patton snorted at that, causing his face to crinkle up in mirth. “What else?”

“As a matter of fact, compared to many other dragons, we don’t know quite as much about Antipodean Opaleyes. They aren’t the strongest, smallest, fastest, or most common, so not as many studies have been done on them. The most beautiful—not the most interesting.”

“She sounds plenty interesting to me!”

Logan didn't disagree.

Patton gasped loudly, lifting up his entire body—shoulders rising, standing on tiptoes, bouncing a bit. “We should give her a name!”

“The Opaleye?”  _ A pointless endeavor,  _ Logan thought.  _ If she were staying with us, possibly, but she’s going to Dee, who can actually  _ handle  _ a dragon or five with zem. And we’re not going to have any more to have to tell her apart from.  _

It would be so easy to tell him this. 

Logan certainly wasn’t going to tell him this. 

“What would you think her name would be, Patton?” 

Patton considered this for a second. His head tilted as he did so, glasses slipping down his nose, eyes scrunching up in thought. “Gemma?”

“Gemma?”

“Yeah!” Patton bounced up and down on his toes. “Like gems? Because she’s all shiny like opals and diamonds?” His entire face lit up as he considered this. 

And despite the pun, Logan had to admit...

“That  _ is _ a… suitable name.” 

“Yes!” Patton pumped his fist in the air. “I  _ knew _ you’d like it! You know what they say about birds of a feather!”

“That they flock together only until the cat comes?”

“...what?”

“That  _ is  _ how the saying ends, isn’t it?” Logan adjusted his glasses. “Oh, did it change?”

Patton simply stared at him. “I—I think so?”

“Ah. Apologies.”

“No biggie!” Patton waggled his finger at him, which was bizarre. “I forbid you from apologizing!”

It was Logan’s turn to stare at the other. “...okay?”

“Yes, okay! It’s not your fault!”

_ Neither was it yours… what is the purpose of this?  _ Logan simply nodded. 

There was a little bit of silence, then. 

“Lo?”

He winced internally. “Lo _ gan _ , and yes?”

“What’s your favorite creature? If you can pick one, that is. No pressure.” Patton smiled at him. Which wasn’t to say he wasn’t smiling before, it was just… new. Softened. Was that the correct word? It was something like that. Logan wasn’t very good at reading human expressions.

Logan had to think for a few seconds, first to process the question, next to come up with a satisfactory answer for both parties. 

_ Well…  _ “I am quite fond of Jobberknolls.” 

Patton perked up. “Ooh, what’re those?”

Logan cleared his throat. “They are small, silent blue birds. The only noise they make in their lifetime is a long scream the moment before they die, consisting of every single sound they hear, only backwards. Jobberknoll feathers are used in potions of truth and memory, likely because of that last fact.”

“Why do you like them so much?”

He adjusted his glasses, suddenly self conscious. Patton, seeing him initiate the motion, did the same. “I do not know, Patton. I simply find it fascinating. There is no reasoning to my choice. It is simply… well, neat.”

Patton beamed at him. “It really is!”

He didn’t know why, but Logan felt his face heat up like a dragon’s scales before breathing fire. 

Odd.

Roman yelled into the room from where she was saying goodbye to Virgil, finally paying attention to the fact he wasn’t there. “Logan! We need to go!”

“Alright, alright.” Logan went to leave, but Patton’s voice made him halt in his tracks.

“Why do you never cast any spells?”

Logan whirled around as if he’d been slapped. “What?”

Patton shrugged. “To be fair, it  _ is  _ impractical. Wouldn’t it be easier to get things done with magic than without?” 

Logan’s mind was spinning.  _ How to respond? How to respond? _ “I—have a habit of losing my wand quite a bit. Besides, Virgil hasn’t done magic either since we arrived.” 

Patton made a face that wasn’t quite a frown, but something else. It was bizarre.  _ This is why I stick to creatures. _ “I suppose, but you seem like the type who doesn’t do ‘impractical’. It’s just not you.”

“I’m not exactly the type to use unnecessary magic.”  _ Or at all. _

“What does that—”

“Besides, it’s not as if—“

“Yo! Lovebirds!” Roman poked her head in the door, causing both of them to jump.  _ Perfect timing _ , Logan thought, and didn’t know whether it was sarcastic or not“Believe me, I’d love for the two of you to keep flirting as well, but if we don’t go  _ now,  _ we’ll be in even deeper trouble than we’re already in.”

“Very well,” Logan said, ignoring the way his heart was racing, unaware of the exact reason why, shouldering his illogical panic along with his coat. “I trust I’ll be seeing you later, Patton?”

Patton grinned at him. His eyes still held that concerned, or maybe confused, look, but it didn’t reach the rest of his expression, so Logan simply dismissed it. Anyways, he’d had never known anyone could possibly smile that much without their face breaking in half, and that was  _ far  _ more intriguing. “Of course, Lo!”

Logan didn’t correct him.

He couldn’t explain why he didn’t like the name.

Not easily, not without going into too much detail, not without talking about  _ her. _

It was simpler to just leave then.

* * *

_ l’Equinoxe _ was never crowded. 

There were plenty of wizards, witches, and half-humans walking around, sure, but not enough in plain sight to cause an alarm. Nevertheless, Patton noticed Virgil not walking too close to anyone, including Patton himself. 

This may or may not be due to the magic that prevented Muggles from entering, disguising the entrance as a dentist's’ office ( _ “Smiling Teeth—your teeth won’t be the only thing happy after your appointment!”)  _ instead of an actual market. It wasn’t the most popular place in Wizarding America, anyways, but it was close enough and had everything they needed, so here Virgil and Patton were, stepping off the stairs that led from a sharp-object-filled lobby designed to prevent normal humans from entering. 

“Alright,” Virgil said, looking around. There weren’t any more dangerous or pointy things to concern themselves with, so they pulled out the paper list Logan had made. “So, we need to get some intense enchanted containment fields, live sheep—ugh—and some other errand-y stuff. Basically magic Pokéballs.”

Patton tilted his head at his friend. “Huh?”

“Just a Muggle culture joke.”

“Alright.” They passed beneath a sign reading  _ l’Equinoxe: A Market for Those of a Different Sort. _ It took a moment, but Patton recognized the slogan, standing up straighter ( _ haha, puns! _ ) when he remembered. “Oh, Ro’s told me about this place!”

“It  _ does _ seem like somewhere she’d go.” Virgil brushed unusually long hair out of their eyes, tinted a simple, dark black, with subtle navy and indigo strands that gave it a  _ stellar _ look. Virgil was much taller today than yesterday too, just as they liked it, so Patton had to look up at them to meet their eyes. There were more freckles, too, almost rivaling Patton’s own collection on his arms and face. 

“Well, there’s a Mer theatre that she quite enjoys every third Saturday, so there’s that!” He grinned at his best friend, who shrugged.

“Huh.”

They were likely thinking, so Patton kept up a steady stream of chatter, mostly to himself, at least a little as background noise.

They entered the first store they saw, a magical pets shop called  _ Flibbet and Crup’s. _ While Virgil bargained with Madame Flibbet (“what do you  _ mean,  _ you don’t have a stash of sheep for this exact purpose?!” “This is a  _ pet store,  _ Mx. Cole!” “Logan  _ told  _ me—“ “Oh, you’re here for Mr. Lizabet’s order! Right this way!” “Are you  _ kidding  _ me?!”), Patton had quite a lot of fun petting Snarls, the brown token pet Crup for whom the store was named. Snarls, despite his name and the forked tail his owner hadn’t removed (“this is a Wizarding store, there won’t be a No-Maj who’ll notice, really”), was really nice, and Patton fell in love instantly.

Virgil had to physically  _ drag _ him out of  _ Flibbet and Crup’s. _

“ _ Please,  _ Virgil?” 

“You are  _ not  _ getting a Cruppie.  _ Especially  _ not the one that belongs to the  _ store  _ we were  _ just in!” _

“But he’s so  _ fluffy!” _ he pleaded pathetically. Virgil just rolled their eyes, not giving in one bit.

“That doesn’t make any difference. I did  _ not  _ just stuff an  _ entire sheep  _ into my backpack for you to just  _ steal _ Snarls!”

Patton pouted. “ _ Fineeee.” _

Virgil sighed. “Good. Because we have at least three more stores to visit, and that’s not even including the Magical Artifacts store. You good?”

“Yep!”

Patton and Virgil left then, Patton internally promising to come back to see Snarls again sometime soon. 

They went to an apothecary simply called  _ Apothecaria Flora  _ (filled to bursting with cool plants and herbs that Patton really wanted to look at sometime, he had a friend who was a Herbologist who’d find them really cool!), a store that was dark in both decor and aura that seemed very likely a front for a cult (Virgil seemed to enjoy it there quite a bit), and  _ The Secret Ingredient _ , the local bakery, just to grab a bite of warm pastry sprinkled in sugar and drizzled with icing in fun shapes _. _

The door jingled as they entered  _ Charming Artifacts _ —which Patton enjoyed very much, both the name and the cheerful greeting. It was a normal bell instead of a charm, which was unusual in a Magical store. 

It was quite cluttered inside, bits and pieces of different things everywhere, but a more organized sort of mess, the sort you find in your room where you can locate everything but your mom still makes you clean it (Patton himself had experienced that many times, despite his mom not being at home to tell him to clean up very often). Even the stairway wasn’t exempt, what with the many carpets and blankets hanging over the railing. 

There were two people visible in the main room, both much shorter than expected. One was in the back, bright orange beanie the only thing distinguishing them from the background of books and cups, but the other was fiddling with something on the desk by the door. They seemed to have been the first one to notice Virgil and Patton, their vibrantly dyed hair falling in their face as they looked up.

“Oh!” They pushed black glasses that had been on the edge of slipping off their face back up their nose. “Uhh, visitors! Hey, I’m Talyn!”

“I’m Patton, and this is Virgil!” He gestured to his friend, who had shrunk noticeably since they’d entered the store. “We’re looking for some, uhh—”

“Magical containment fields,” cut in Virgil, “strong enough to hold back an angry dragon.”

Talyn looked from Virgil to Patton and back again. “A  _ dragon?  _ Really?” They shrugged. “I  _ guess  _ we might have something. No guarantees, but—“

The orange-beanie person made a sound that was half snort and half scoff, and walked up towards Talyn. “Hey Talyn, isn’t it your job to know what we have?” 

“Hey, we haven’t  _ tested  _ them, Joan!”

“Yeah, so?”

Talyn sighed heavily and brushed pink and blue hair out of their eyes. “Alright, I’ll look in the containment fields.” 

“Cool.” Joan looked around the store. “Hey, where the fork is Tomathy?”

“Upstairs.”

“Of course.” 

Virgil raised their hand tentatively. “Why did you say fork?”

Joan sighed. “Thomas  _ insisted  _ on installing a censor charm. It won’t let me forking swear in this place. He said it’d ‘scare away customers’.”

They turned to yell up the stairs, causing Virgil to flinch. Patton rested his head on his friend’s shoulder in an attempt to help. “YO THOMAS!”

“Yeah?”

“Customers!”

Talyn sighed. “Every  _ time,  _ Thomas…”

There was the noise of someone running just above them. “Sorry about that!” The man who was Thomas ran down the stairs, violet-tinted hair flopping on his forehead. He wore a reddish t-shirt with a yellow star on the center that Patton recognized as being from the Steven Universe show—Roman  _ loved  _ it, and so did he!—and a jean jacket. His wand was behind his ear, and his smile was infectious.

“C’mon, Thomas! Can you be ready for customers  _ once?” _

Thomas held his hands up, laughing as the other two slapped him with towels that had come from absolutely nowhere. “Hey, you all know I’m gay!”

Joan stared at Thomas. “What. What does being gay have to do with anything.”

“Being gay has to do with  _ everything,  _ Joan!”

“Oh my gosh.” Talyn pinched the bridge of their nose. “I don’t know what I expected but I’m disappointed all the same.”

Thomas brushed locks of purple out of his eyes and turned to face Patton and Virgil. “Sorry ‘bout that! I’m Thomas, and these are my friends! Who are you?”

“I’m Patton, and this is my best friend Virgil!” He gestured wildly to the latter, hitting them in the face on accident. “Oh my goodness I’m so sorry V!”

“It’s fine.” They shrugged casually with one shoulder. “Do you have magical containment fields?”

Thomas considered this. “I’ll have to ask my friends. Talyn, do you—“

“Not sure.” 

“Oh.” Beat. “Joan—“

“I was  _ going  _ to check the storage before I realized you weren’t here, you forker.”

Thomas laughed, loud and gleeful. It was a really special laugh. “Of course. Only the best force fields for our guests! I’ll do a quick diagnostics spell on any you bring back to see if it’ll work.” 

Joan nodded firmly and walked off to search. 

Thomas clapped his hands. “Shall we have a gay ol’ time while we wait?”

_ Oh my goodness gracious! Puns! _

_ I want to be friends with this guy. _

* * *

Muggle—or No-Maj—Manhattan was DESCRIPTION

  
  


Granted, a parking lot wasn’t the best place to enjoy the scenery, but still.

And no matter Logan’s opinions on Manhattan, he wasn’t really paying attention to the city anyways, not when Roman was  _ yelling right  _ in his _ face _ about _ absolutely nothing _ . 

"You want me to do  _ WHAT?! _ "   
  
Logan barely held back a more animalistic than human noise of frustration. Normally, ‘ _ animalistic’  _ wouldn’t be his preferred word choice, as he respected non-humans almost more than those of the same species at him, but there simply weren’t words for his, as Virgil would say,  _ done _ -ness. "It's simple. Just attract its attention, using your normal, flamboyant self and gestures. I will handle it from there."   
  


“Isn’t that, I don’t know,  _ dangerous?” _

_ Of course it is.  _ “That’s why you’re the one doing it.” At Roman’s overdramatic, more than a little scandalized look, he reassured with a calm he didn’t quite feel, “you won’t die, Roman. I have a medical kit, and our companions are arriving here once they retrieve my materials.”

  
"Why couldn’t  _ I  _ go with them?"   
  
"Again, because you’re the best at combat magic, as well as being more powerful in general.” These questions were starting to grate on Logan’s nerves.

“That’s true,” she admitted. “But couldn’t we have just one more person with us? Your errands can’t be  _ that  _ important.”

_ I swear to every single one of Merlin’s fingernails—  _ “Roman. Surely you can’t expect me to just  _ release _ a dragon into a magical suitcase sanctuary without precautions? There are all too many creatures it’d like to eat, and it will without any safety measures. The Opaleye—Gemma—will not want to stay within any magical boundaries, and will fight them. And without a habitat ready, she won’t be happy there."   
  
"Why not?" Roman crossed her arms and pouted. "You just had me Levitate those Snidgets in there without looking."   
  
Logan sighed heavily. "That's not how it works. Yes, I did, but they were  _ Golden Snidgets _ . Not only are they a completely harmless creature, I also already had a habitat ready and filled with others of the same sort. Which is good, because do you  _ know  _ how endangered they are?”

“Yeah, of course.” Roman rolled her eyes and scoffed. “I’ve read basic Quidditch history books, Alice Through the Logan Glass. I was the best Chaser on my team back in Ilvermorny.”

“Well, then, the way my suitcase works, it can tell what the species is, it's classification, and if if needs a special pen or not." Logan looked very intensely at Roman, who seemed to shrink almost imperceptibly under his gaze. This seemed puzzling. It’s not like he was looking at her in any odd way. "A dragon most definitely needs a special pen, along with the proper food and accommodations, which Virgil and Patton are attending to."   
  
Roman tilted her head. "Why don't you just, y'know, make it like that Room of Requirement Virgil told me about?"   
  
"Because neither Virgil nor I know anyone skilled enough in Charms to create something at that advanced level. Besides, the spells that created the Room were cast centuries ago, and the casters long deceased. Who knows what mutations have been caused in that time, making it impossible to replicate?"   
  
"That makes sense, I guess. But why—”

“—did I take you with me? Yes, I’m beginning to question that too.”

Roman pouted. “Oh, come on, you know you—” 

Logan threw out his hand. “Stop.”

“What is—“

Logan shushed her very effectively by slapping a hand over her mouth. Roman made a noise of offense and outrage, going so far as to lick his hand, but Logan wasn’t about to withdraw for something so easily cleansed as saliva. 

Not when the Quintaped was within sight. 

And not only within sight, but stomping around in plain sight, terrorizing the Muggles—or No-Majs, or whatever you preferred to call them (the American population of wizards hadn’t quite decided on a common term for the plural form, preferring to argue pointlessly about it as Americans were prone to do about just about anything; think “potayto vs potahto” or “gif vs jif”)—as it roamed the parking lot. 

It was large.  _ Very  _ large. 

There were quite a bit more than a few magical creatures Logan Lizabet had encountered in his life so far. He’d seen just about everything from Acromantulas to Unicorns, from Flobberworms to Yetis, and so on. He’d been almost smashed by the fists of a Troll, almost eaten alive by a Basilisk, even faced down a freakin’  _ Lethifold _ and survived. 

But this Quintaped?

Even Logan would call it fearsome. 

It was huge, reddish brown, and extremely hairy. All five legs, each which walked like the legs of a gorilla, were around the width of a human being, and around as tall. The large pod that served as a body, with a large, crazed eye on both sides, had a sharp-teeth-filled mouth that took up a solid fifth of its surface area. 

There was already a team of wizards from the Body for Protection of Magical Species attempting to keep it back, one of whom was presumably currently being consumed by the carnivorous beast, as evidenced by the likely-human leg hanging out of its mouth. 

It was a grisly sight. 

Logan knew there was no time to waste. 

Even as Roman made a sound of disgust and horror, Logan reached into his pocket and pulled out a lure. It wasn’t human flesh, was too large a chunk of protein and muscle to belong to a humanoid and was either beef or something of the sort (hopefully kosher), but Logan still thought it best to not show it to his companion. 

He threw it towards the beast. 

The Quintaped noticed the hunk of meat with great, slightly disturbing interest. It was carnivorous, of course, and despite having a taste for human would gladly eat any sort of meaty protein. It scuttled—as much as something that weighs quite a bit more than a truck could  _ scuttle _ —across the tar and paint of the parking lot. 

It—he—lowered his podlike head to sniff the flesh with a large, apelike nose before biting into it with sharp teeth. His eyes were wild with the bloodshed it had caused, bloodshot, juices from the meat dripping down what you could vaguely call a chin.

Logan prepared his suitcase as Roman casted spells of calm, of containment, of illusion, murmuring under her breath. She’d grumbled more than a little at first, but Logan was glad to have her as his companion. Roman was a steady spellcaster, reliable yet powerful, useful in a pinch. 

That didn’t mean all the spells worked. 

The Quintaped did his best to shake off all the spells he could, and was not unsuccessful. The sensation of magic was unfamiliar to him. This made it so he didn’t know how to react, which meant Roman didn’t die for the heinous crime of doing the magic on the Quintaped. 

Finally, it seemed like the Quintaped was getting a bit more tired, just enough to be less of a danger. 

Logan reached for his suitcase.

It was time to try and move the Quintaped to a safer place.

And that’s when he tripped and fell right under the body of the beast.

* * *

“Why do you need such a powerful containment field?” Thomas asked, curious. 

They had migrated to an odd assortment of chairs and couches smushed in the corner of the shop. Patton and Virgil shared a couch, while Thomas and Talyn each had their own chair, and none of them matched in the slightest—one bright, burning pink, another dirty brown, yet another red velvet, a pair of bizarre-looking antiques pushed up against the wall. 

Thomas had Summoned some cans of Suds’s Sensational Soda for them, which tasted of raspberries and lime and burst on Patton’s tongue upon contact, along with a few cookies he thought were absolutely delicious. 

Virgil grinned sideways at Thomas. It was, in all honesty, somewhat bizarre a facial expression. “So. It all started with my nerd of a cousin, Logan, who really frickin’ likes dragons and has never had a hobby in his life…” 

Virgil explained, in varying levels of detail, just what Logan was intent on doing and exactly why they needed “the most powerful freakin’ magical field, dangit, I don’t want to get eaten by a freakin’ dragon today.”

“I can appreciate that,” Talyn said, smirking a little. “Not wanting to get eaten by a dragon is a good goal.”

“Agreed!” Thomas beamed. Why was his smile so gosh darn ding dang perfect? It was like the sun itself had smiled, but without the whole eyes-burning part.  _ So even better? _

“Good,” Patton laughed, “because I’d be  _ fire _ -ious if that happened!”

Talyn groaned loudly. “Oh my gosh, you’re just like Thomas.” They jerked their thumb towards said man, who was laughing his head off in utter glee. “You need to leave. I can’t handle two of him.”

“I can’t!” Patton grinned wider. “This place is just so  _ punderful _ !!”

“Stoooooop,” Talyn whined. Thomas only roared louder, clutching his stomach. 

“I need to breathe!” 

Virgil raised an eyebrow. “It was funny, but that seems like an overreaction.”

“I really like puns!” 

“Obviously.” Virgil shook their head, a slow smile spreading over their face. “Are you Patton’s long lost brother or something?”

“Trust me, I’d have noticed one more brother in my house. I have three as it is already!” 

Patton really liked this Thomas fellow. “Three? Oh goodness gracious!”  _ If I’d have had two more siblings, things might have turned out differently. _

_ Or not. _

“Move, nerds.” Joan made exaggerated shooing motions towards Talyn and Thomas. Laughing and rolling their eyes, the pair made room for their friend. They flopped down on the armrest of Talyn’s armchair, leaning back comfortably as if this were a perfectly normal occurrence. 

Joan whispered loudly in Talyn’s ear, although Patton could hear them just fine. “I have the goods.”

Talyn laughed once and pushed Joan off the chair. “Give it to them, then!”

Grumbling, Joan did that, handing Patton the artifact. It was a rather delicate choice for such a powerful enchantment—a small pyramid of colored glass surrounding a ring of metal suspended in the glass. 

It was beautiful.

“So a diagnostic charm told me this is the one you’re looking for. Triangles are the strongest shape, apparently. According to physics or whatever, which is just as important to magic as blood, by the way. The shape might have something to do with the strength of the shield, but it could just be the effort or intention the caster put into it.”

Patton cleared his throat. “You didn’t make it?”

“Nah, was sold to us.” At the questioning look, Joan explained, “it’d take a really long time and a whole lot of effort to make a quarter of the stuff in here, even with three of us. So we’ll get artifacts by other means too, mainly ads targeted at old families with too much stuff, and this is one of those. Belonged to the… Eaglets?” They shrugged. 

“Wasn’t that Eaglet guy the one who wouldn’t shut up?” Patton just about jumped out of his skin when Talyn’s hair lengthened and turned a vibrant orange color as they grew a mustache. “ _ I’m Eaglet Dude and I’m the absolute best! I know all the things.”  _ They flipped their hair. “ _ Even more than you, the one who  _ works at the actual store _. Honestly. _ ”

“Oh, hey, dude!” When Patton looked at Virgil, their hair was a bright orange as well. “Same hat.”

“Same hat,” Talyn agreed. They high fived. 

“We should be leaving soon,” Thomas said, looking at one of the many ancient-looking clocks lining the walls. “Joan and I have rehearsal in an hour, and Val will absolutely glare at me if we’re late.”

Joan adjusted their beanie. “Her glare isn’t too bad, you’re just soft.”

“I’m a Hufflepuff, what do you expect?”

Patton didn’t wonder how Thomas lived in America but was a Hufflepuff. 

If he did, it wasn’t something he asked. 

Because there might not have been an answer anyways. 

“Sounds good, we’ll get out of your hair!” Patton beamed. “Your violently Cheeto-colored coif. Your locks of lion. Your—”

“We  _ get  _ it,” Joan groaned. Thomas cackled loudly. 

Talyn sighed. “Come back some other time, alright? We have more cookies and also Thomas being gay!”

Patton laughed. “Sounds good!”

He and Virgil bid their goodbyes to the trio and walked outside into the sun. 

The sunlight was almost blinding in the transition from indoors to out. It seemed all just as they’d left it, but—

_ CRUNCH.  _

There was a very loud  _ crash,  _ followed by quite a lot of screaming. Patton looked all around, but no source of the noise was immediately apparent.  _ What’s going on?!  _

Frantic people ran past him, scared out of their wits, and something felt very,  _ very  _ wrong. An impending sense of doom fell upon him with no small effect, making him inhale sharply. 

And that’s when Patton saw it. “Wait, is that  _ Gemma?!”  _

“Who and what is a—?!” Virgil’s head snapped towards the noise. Their eyes probably widened, they might have gasped, Patton definitely grabbed their arm in a panic, but he wasn’t looking at his friend.

He was looking at the just plain  _ massive  _ beast on top of the buildings. True to the description Logan gave him, she was shiny as a reptile dipped in water and precious metals and rolled in shards of glass. Gemma did, indeed, live up to her name. Her eyes were large in her head, certainly opalescent, and they were scanning the terrain with a frankly scary fury in them. 

There was exactly one ring of scales, however, around her neck, that seemed to not have gotten with whatever program there was. 

Instead, it was cycling through different colors, from vibrant red to ebony black to pearly cream, possibly from every type of dragon  _ but _ the Antipodean Opaleye. 

He wouldn’t think about what that meant until later, however. 

In the moment, Patton was frozen with terror. 

Beside him, Virgil was breathing fast, but didn’t seem to be running or screaming. 

Running and screaming seemed  _ pretty  _ darn tempting right then.

“Something’s wrong.”

Patton looked at Virgil, head tilted slightly. “What is it?” 

“You know how Logan said that Opaleyes aren’t aggressive?”

“Her name is Gemma, but yes?”

Virgil pointed to the very shiny dragon. “Uhh, that one most certainly is  _ not  _ not aggressive.”

Patton followed their finger away from Gemma. The rooftops were alight with scarlet flames. Curses and spells were being hurled at the dragon like a wall of magic, but the dragon didn’t so much as react. The Opaleye only roared with renowned vigor and rage, clawing at the crumbling stores. 

_ Oh goodness no!  _ “Thomas and Joan and Talyn—”

“We’ll get them now!” Virgil grabbed hold of Patton’s arm and pulled him back, away from the dragon, away from where he could  _ help,  _ back to Apparate their new friends away, to meet up with Logan and Roman. 

But just before they did, Patton noticed something very bizarre. 

There was unmistakably a dark,  _ humanoid _ figure on the dragon’s back.

* * *

Logan stared up into the gaping mouth of the Quintaped. 

Drops of sickly drool fell on his face, on his coat, on his glasses. He could see the sheer massiveness of the Quintaped’s teeth, just how sharp they were. If he reached up just a  _ bit  _ higher, he could possibly touch them, prick his finger like Sleeping Beauty and sleep for a hundred years. 

He reached up and felt the soft, wet with spit, fur beneath the Quintaped’s mouth. He scratched it lightly, and the creature’s eyes narrowed at the sensation. 

Likely no one had tried to scratch it.

No one had dared.

The Quintaped seemed to like it.

The pod that served as a head and a torso raised up beyond Logan’s reach, eyes narrowing even further.

The Quintaped’s mouth opened—

“ _ ACCIO NERD!” _

Logan slid along the concrete, right under the Quintaped’s legs and all the way up to Roman, who looked much more terrified than Logan thought necessary.

The most scary thing about this whole ordeal, really, was the amount of repair Logan would have to inflict on his favorite trench coat.

A rough slide along a parking lot wasn’t good on fabric, no matter how waterproof.

That was likely because concrete wasn’t exactly water, thus, waterproofing it was inconsequential.

But he’d had many different people charm this coat with stain-resistance, durability, and many other spells, so this was a waste.

Logan stood up and brushed the rocks off his dark brown coat, ignoring Roman’s gawking. “Thank you for the assist, Roman.”

“You almost died.”

“That is a hyperbolic statement. I had complete faith you would save me should business negotiations with our Quintaped friend—”

“ _ Friend?!” _

“—go south, but I was confident it would not, and it didn’t, so that wasn’t exactly necessary.”

Roman looked like her head was about to explode from how red it was becoming with—rage? Panic? Logan didn’t know. “You almost got  _ eaten.” _

“No, he wouldn’t—”

A large bellow came from somewhere behind Logan. 

He spun around to face the location from which the sound came, only to be met with a horrific sight.

Countless wizards Logan could only assume belonged to MACUSA surrounded the Quintaped. A countdown was yelled by one of the officials—they all looked exactly alike, in their uniforms and robes and stony expressions, telling them apart was impossible—before they all unleashed unholy fury upon the innocent beast.

Spells—white, white, white—were hurled at the helpless Quintaped, one after the other, leaving no room for Logan to breathe, to manage his utter and complete panic, to attempt to help, to do  _ anything.  _

He was helpless. 

Logan was helpless.

He only snapped out of his terrible reverie upon hearing one last pitiful roar from the creature.

He couldn’t tell where the blinding light of the spells ended and the Quintaped began.

A cry tore itself from his throat, all but unbidden by his brain, terrible in its pitifully strong pleading. “ _ No!  _ Don’t hurt him! Please!”

Logan ran over to the wizards, who acted completely indifferent to his approach, to his plea, to his  _ horror.  _

“He’s innocent! Stop it!  _ No!” _ He’d left his suitcase behind with Roman.  _ Why did I leave my suitcase behind with Roman?!  _ He couldn’t even summon it. He couldn’t step in front of the spells, he couldn’t tear the wizards away, despite his desperately trying anyways. It was as if they were glued in place, unable to be moved.

Logan would have hated them.

If only he had room for any emotions but fear.

No.

_ Terror. _

He vaguely noticed Patton and Virgil Apparating near Roman out of the corner of his eye, saw Patton flinging himself into Roman’s arms, saw him burying his head in her shoulder, saw Virgil running over to try and stop all that had already been done.

But there was nothing they could do.

Logan’s eyes burned with the light of the spells even as they faded away, taking the Quintaped with them, with tears, with the strength of his glare. He could barely see through his dirtied glasses, but that didn’t stop him from trying to grab one last glance of his failure.

The Quintaped was almost worse than dead.

There was a bottomless pit in his chest and a knot of something worse—less passive—than shame in his stomach, and he’d  _ failed. _

_ Again. _

* * *

“Oh Merlin’s entire kneecap! Patton!” Roman ran her hands through Patton’s hair. He hadn’t combed it in a while, so it was rather snarly and the actions hurt a bit, but he appreciated it anyways. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, but Ro, the dragon was there!”

“Yes, Virgil told me, but—“

“There was someone  _ on Gemma!” _

Roman stared at him. “Alright, you’re hallucinating. Are you  _ really  _ sure you’re alright?”

“Roman, I’m not kidding! _ ” _ Roman made to turn away but Patton caught his arm. He saw Virgil approaching out of the corner of his eye, but this was more important. “I know what I saw! I wouldn’t make this up, would I?”

Patton’s sister looked just over his shoulder at something that didn’t seem to make her happy, by the look on her face. “That’s the least of our problems, Pat.”

“What do you mean?”  _ Is  _ she  _ alright? How could an entire  _ dragon not _ be our  _ biggest  _ problem?! It’s one of the biggest creatures, isn’t it? Hah, good one! ...I think? _

With one last wistful glance at Patton, Roman stepped aside and walked towards whatever she had been looking at.

_ Oh. _

Standing there, looking incredibly cross, was the President of MACUSA, along with the Head of the Body for Protection of Magical Species and many others who Patton didn’t recognize.

_ Oh.  _

_ Oh dear. _

_ Oh goodness gracious.  _

Randolph Terbis was a, for lack of better word, repulsive man. Like many people in politics, it was almost impossible to tell how he was elected, except for the fact that humans can be quite stupid sometimes. He was neither fat nor thin, but seemed to ooze almost, as if constantly secreting oil from his pores. His hair was the color of burnt caramel, his face thin and angular despite needing a firm scrubbing and it pained Patton to describe anyone this foully, but his personality wasn’t any prettier than his appearance.

He felt like someone who was all power, no control. 

And he didn’t seem to  _ want  _ control. 

“Mister Vivus. Mister Cole.”

Virgil cleared their throat and walked forward, grabbing Roman’s hand as they did so. “It’s Mx, actually.” 

Their hair was a vibrant red that contested Terbis’s that it had not been earlier. 

Patton could only hope it didn’t turn  _ violent. _

President Terbis ignored Virgil, which was  _ extremely rude, don’t do that,  _ instead turning his gaze to Roman. “Mister Vivus.”

Roman, impossibly, seemed to shrink. She muttered something unintelligible, following it up with a reluctant “Yes?” 

“Explain.” It wasn’t a question. 

Obviously quite reluctantly, Roman did. Terbis did not change his expression once during the entire explanation.

Patton saw that she didn’t mention the reason they’d split up, or anything about the dragon. Terbis, thankfully, didn’t seem to notice the inconsistencies.

_ Thank goodness. _

Roman was just finishing up when there was a frustrated yell. Patton looked over just in time to see Logan kick a rock halfway across the parking lot. Patton could see the expression on his face, which was so expressive he couldn’t bear to look at. It almost made him feel the rage and terror Logan so obviously held as if it were his own. 

Spying Terbis, Logan pivoted on the spot and stormed over to him. 

“What are you going to do to him?” The question was spoken more snappish than questioning. There was an icy fury behind Logan’s eyes, and it was directed entirely at President Terbis. “What’s going to happen to the Quintaped?”

Terbis didn’t even have the grace to flinch. “Miss Lizabet.”

“ _ Mister  _ Lizabet.” There was a sharp edge in his voice, but Patton didn’t know if it was fear, anger, or something deeper. 

Patton could relate.

There were oh so many days when being called a _ boy  _ made Patton feel like throwing up, when they didn’t know what they  _ wanted  _ to look like but  _ this wasn’t it,  _ when they’d repeat  _ demiboy demiboy demiboy  _ under their breath until they couldn’t think of anything else. 

(It wasn’t always bad, but when it was, it felt like Patton was dying.)

“I have heard much about you.” Terbis looked down his long nose at Logan, which was extremely bizarre. Logan was tall enough that not many people were able to look  _ down  _ at him. “I believe we should have a little  _ chat.” _

“You didn’t answer my question.” Somehow, Logan made looking up into the tall man’s eyes look intimidating.

“The details of what its punishment will be are  _ classified, _ ” he said, following it up with a snide, “ _ Ms.  _ Lizabet.” Patton wanted to fight him. To punch anyone who  _ dared _ — “I advise you to remember your place. After all, you may be a  _ self-proclaimed  _ Magizoologist, but you’re still—”

“An amazing one who’s discovered the most information about magical creatures since Newt Scamander?” Virgil scoffed, crossing their arms. “Yep,  _ that’s _ true at least.”

Patton resisted the urge to laugh and high five his best friend. Roman appeared to squeeze Virgil’s hand, and Patton could sense her apprehension and barely-bitten-back warning.

For the first time, Terbis acknowledged Virgil’s existence. “ _Cole._ You may be an accomplished Cursebreaker, but you’re still related to _this._ It would be all too easy to discredit someone who has frequent contact with, and even _assists_ , someone like _him.”_

“My brilliant cousin?” They snorted. “Go ahead. Good luck trying to convince Magenta to get rid of me. I’m the best at Shielding in my field.”

Terbis only glared at them. Virgil didn’t even move, staring right back at him. 

Finally, Terbis sighed, more annoyed than anything. “This is too irritating to take care of today.” He pointed to each of them as he spoke. “Vivus. Vivus. Lizabet. Cole. See me in my office tomorrow. Vivus can lead the way. You’ve been there before.”

Roman murmured something like, “ _ Regrettably.” _

“If you don’t come, I can assure you, the consequences will be greater than you could  _ possibly  _ imagine.” 

A mix of terror and rage brought tears to Patton’s eyes.

_ Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry…  _

“Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Virgil said, the only one able to speak. Patton was barely able to muster a nod himself. The huge lump in his throat stopped any words from leaving his mouth. 

“Good.” President Terbis promptly Disapparated with a  _ crack! _ The rest of the wizards followed, leaving the four alone with the ocean of emotions and absence of any success.

If Patton tried to read any auras individually, he’d fail, what with the overlap and overwhelming complexity of it all.

“Well, that went well.” Virgil, who seemed to be hiding a blend of anxiety and rage behind their eyes, said.

Patton examined the rest of their little group.

Roman looked overwhelmed, more frustrated, embarrassed, just plain  _ angry  _ with herself than Patton had ever seen her as she dug long fingernails into her arms. Logan was still staring at the place the Quintaped had been, fuming. He was clutching his suitcase with white knuckles, breaths short. If there were tears, Patton couldn’t tell.

He instead turned to look at Virgil and screamed, following it up with hysterical laughter that brought tears to his eyes.

His best friend had assumed the precise appearance of President Randolph Terbis.

**Author's Note:**

> like ten thousand people edited this ILL CREDIT THEM IN FIVE
> 
> I am not trans, or genderfluid. I am nonbinary, and identify similarily to Patton and Virgil, but if I made any kind of mistake or offended anyone, please tell me.


End file.
